A Teaspoon of Spice

Shy of Death

When they found you on the street, you were broken.

A shattered piece of yourself that would never be whole.

You had no worth to them, no worth to anyone, you were merely a sack of dead tissue laying across the ground like a limp carcass.

You honestly didn't care who found you- who knew your secret- who picked you off the street and if they wanted to do horrible things to you.

You were already broken- from all the things done to you- but that meant nothing else could shatter you.

Imagine your surprise when instead of a cold and calculated hand reaching down to place you in a cage by the scruff of your neck, but instead, a warm and gentle hand was extended to you- asking for your permission to be rescued.

You didn't feel like you needed to be rescued- you weren't worth it. But the angel that extended their arm was so kind, and so inviting- that all the guilt of burdening someone was shoved to the side by the need for comfort. Every sentient things greatest want.

She grabbed your limp hand, firmly, and pulled your to your feet. Forced you to stand like you meant something to anyone.

Metaphorically of course. Your body was so abused that several people had to drag your massive body onto a ship. All while you barely cracked open your weary eyes. The change in lighting was messing with your eyes- from the dark damp road, to a clean, bright inside of some sort of ship.

The doors closed, and the engine had started, and people were rushing around your body, everything kept phasing in and out of existence. One moment your looking into a flashlight, the next you see that angel addressing your wounds, feeling the stinging clean.

You faintly remember vomiting- so put out and dizzy from all the spinning voices and moments that even if you tried you couldn't have stopped from dirtying the clean floors.

The engine was loud in your ears, and the feeling of flying was so strong- that eventually- everything went black.

But oh- you could still feel everything. A never ending nightmare of fading voices, and prodding needles- everything from your past ate you up on the inside- a mad beast that swirled in your mind like a maelstrom of chaos.

Not even now, when you were supposed to be unconscious, could you stop feeling everything happening in your body.

Hours of feeling, and aching, yet not feeling, and your eyes finally opened.

When you woke- you were motionless. Already expecting the worst, and already ready to submit to defeat.

But excruciating pain never came.

Neither did the doctors with needles, and straps, or the cage- and the knives.

Simply...

A serene and quiet air about you, the windows showed mornings light, and the air conditioning gently made the curtains sway.

You still felt tremendously tired, and still ached with every breath of air you took, but it was... better.

Better then before, better then everything before.

It took awhile for anyone to check on you, and you took that time to contemplate everything that happened in your life.

All the minute details that led to being tortured the way you were- and every minor thing you could have done to receive an actual hospital bed to lay on- and actual blankets.

But eventually, someone had to come check on you, and you knew they were coming minutes before they entered the room.

A door opening, from far off down the hallway of what you could assume was the medical ward entrance- and the clicking of high heels that spoke of someone important.